Catalyst!
by alygdgrl
Summary: I rememember the first time that I saw him, the day he was born. I'm kissing him now and I know I love him. 'Sirius' he says.I feel as if I'm going to cry.


Catalyst!

Chapter 1:

I remember the first time that I saw him, the day he was born. I remember looking at his enormously beautiful eyes and thinking I had never seen anything so beautiful. I remember his tiny fingers as they held on with infant strength, as I laughed with his father about how he was destined to ride on Pegasus' back, Hercules, the saviour of the world. I remember his eyelashes closing, his delicately small mouth pouting; I can see the perfection of the child, the peace my brashness has never allowed…and I cry.

I remember the soft light, gentle and cosseting, enfolding him, making him shine. I recall with flawless perception as I lowered him onto the gentle mattress of his crib, the slowly spinning lions above him playing an enchanting tune that cascaded, brimming with love, and looking to his father in wonderment, awed and proud of such perfection. I recollect as if yesterday, the joyful laugh as his mother, his father, and I embraced. I see, now and forever, Lily's loving gaze as her eyes betook her son and James' proud happiness. I remember looking at him one last time, one year later, before innocence survived even as we broke. My sad anaphora bears no comparison to the love, the pride, the awe, and heartbreak I have felt. I remember the first time that I saw him, the day he was born. Nothing matters, I am home.

* * *

_James,_ my mind cries and my heart constricts. My joyous cry at the tip of my tongue, I stop. I stop and I cease to look; I choose to _see_. There, my godson stands. He's furious; his eyes gleam defiantly as he proceeds upstairs after having embraced me. Shouts and frustration echo through the halls downstairs, as above he screams. I can't help but smile; perhaps it's James after all.

Half an hour later, the semblance of cozy, familial dining enfolds the kitchen. Remus is by my side, conspiratorial and supportive, my friend past the transcendences of life. Discussion and reprimand follow my explanatory confession to Harry. Only Remus understands that he must know; it is my promise.

* * *

I'm bleeding; cerise flows out of me, a river of life. Above me light shines, blinding me, making my senses confused. I hear shouts and suddenly, although I know time has passed, I am on a bed. Faces float above me as the wound is healed. Harry is okay, even the Ministry of Magic could not defeat him; Hercules knows no end.

Recuperation takes longer than anyone had anticipated. I should be dead. Honestly, I think I could bear it better if I was. I am incapacitated; where is the rum, I say? Remus laughs with me. Imminent death, he chortles, is not even enough to stop the unstoppable Sirius Black.

"It's in my pedigree, Moony. Instinct takes over. _Roar_, the dog fights. You know, like the time I fought you when you hit me on the head with a rock," I cry in drunken delight.

"I hit no one! The rock escaped my hand. Unscrupulous little buggers, they are," Remus whispers with child like conviction.

I hit him upside the head. There is no more rum. I turn in to a dog; we curl and go to sleep. I wake to find Harry above us, laughing. Remus is sucking his thumb. Bah, we need more rum.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Harry asks from the doorway, slightly baggy tan shirt hanging over striped pajama bottoms.

"Becoming a fairy princess," I mumble through pursed lips, face turning steadily purple.

"Ah, the color suits you," He says cheekily, smiling.

He comes to sit by my side. I glare at him as I topple to the ground. I cradle my head in my hands as a painful stab threatens to split my head.

"That's why the elderly shouldn't try to become fairy princesses on their heads," he laughs, tilting his head to the side.

"This is why you should never get drunk," I whisper to him, hoping the throbbing in my head will cease.

"I'll keep that in mind," he tells me, looking amused.

"You know, you're dad and I would do this. We'd sit together, nursing hangovers, crying bloody murder to the world," I say looking into his eyes.

The smile disappeared and he looked away, "Did you do it often? Drink, I mean."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "Mostly he and I would get into trouble; we were actually sober most of the time. It might have been hard to tell the difference, but we knew. He and I talked a lot, most of the time, when we weren't getting in trouble…or drunk. We would just talk about everything. I've never been able to talk to someone like I could with him."

Harry is looking at me with a queer expression. His eyes looked misty, "You guys talked?"

I let out an incredulous laugh, "Well we sure as hell didn't grunt…well, sometimes we did. That's outside the point, though. The point _is_, you're father was the best friend I've ever had. He was closer than my brother and meant more to me than all the Blacks with their pretentious attitudes and idiotic aristocracy."

"You've never really told me of your relationship; you're friendship, I mean," Harry mumbles, looking at his hands.

"Well, that's because the only time you've asked was when you saw Snivellus' pensive," I state, looking at his hands as well. He had Lily's hands, only bigger. They were magic; I miss you, Lily.

I shake my head. He's looking at me with a hurt expression. "I'm sorry, Harry. That came out entirely wrong," I stumble out, looking away; I am slightly ashamed.

He turns his head. "It's okay, don't worry about it. What did you talk about?"

Suddenly all the memories come crashing back. I don't have a head ache anymore; I start to laugh, "We used to make jokes a lot, any kind of jokes. They were stupid and not very funny, but we laughed anyways, because we could. We would talk about life and my family and about all this stuff inside me that I won't talk about to anyone. We would talk about quidditch, about how we would become the best chasers in the country, the world!"

"Then when you came along, we changed," he looked up, alarmed. I shook my head, "Don't worry; we didn't grow apart. If anything, we grew closer. Suddenly, we didn't just _want _to capture Voldemort; it became necessary. You are the first thing in this whole world that I have ever seen as perfect." I find myself tracing his face with my head as I finish, "I don't think that will ever change."

A shudder runs through him. He jumps up. I don't understand what is wrong. He's walking away from me. I capture his hand and turn him with so much force that his momentum makes us topple to the ground. His lips brush mine; another shudder. I look up. Remus is at the door. I laugh. He doesn't know what to say. I pick us up and ruffle the embarrassed teen's hair. I love my life.

* * *

I'm alone in the house. Harry is gone with Dumbledore on a trip somewhere. He will be in his Sixth Year and I am peeved off. He will be gone and I will be alone. Why isn't he home yet? We talk every evening, after dinner. It's been going on for a month and I'm happy again. I never thought I would be happy after Azkaban. Things change.

Now, he's not here and I am alone. Buckbeak doesn't count. He refuses to talk to me, or acknowledge the fact that I exist… a bloody bird finds me inferior. I think he thinks I'm weird. Oh, well. Why isn't he home yet? All day I've had a strange feeling. It feels as if my heart is in someone's hand, being squeezed. I realize I am worried.

The front door opens and I hear him come in. I feel relief. He looks tired and his eyes are bloodshot. He sits down and smiles. I look at him and try to remember the baby. My godson is all grown up. He's taller now, a couple of inches shorter than I am and I don't understand how, but he's muscular. His eyes look bright when compared to his dark hair. I shake my head. I feel funny.

We finish eating. He opens his mouth to speak. I shake my head. He looks tired. I make him stand up and walk him up to his room. It's weird; I never thought I would be unselfish. My fatherly instincts must be taking over. I watch him walk in and kick his shoes off. He takes of his shirt and mumbles a goodnight. I'm blushing. I don't know why. Weird.

* * *

We're in Harry's room. We are exhausted. We have been cleaning the house all day…nonstop. I feel as if my bones are heavy. I plop down on his bed and lay down. My breath is knocked out as he none too gently _slams_ his head on my stomach. He doesn't move. I don't care; I want to sleep. I'm so tired.

I wake up to wild bush of messy hair. Harry's head has migrated to my chest; his hands are around me, cradling me from above. I turn my head and find Remus at the door again. He turns around and walks away; he's shaking his head. I start to laugh loudly and Harry wakes up. He looks at me and I wink. He's shuddering again. Hercules is cold. Remus comes back to the door and just stares. Life is jiffy.

I look down and see that my hand is at his back; I don't know how it got there. He gets up and goes to Remus. I shake my head and I follow him. Remus stares at me and shakes his head. I turn into a dog and knock him on a couch. I lay on his chest. He doesn't seem to be able to breath. Hmm, he's making funny sounds. I think he wants me to get off. Hah! I like it here. Harry laughs; I like it. My tail wags. Life is definitely jiffy!

* * *

**I hope you like it! Please tell me what you think and REVIEW. The continuance of this story depends on you. I await your ideas. Thank you for reading.**

**Aly!**


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